father turned his eye towards him, he would take it as a reproof for indulging a wandering heart, and would burst into tears immediately. He likewife fuffered much perfecution for religion; efpecially from a wicked neighbour whofe tongue was like a fharp spear; so that he was afraid either to hear or fee him, as his language favoured fo much of hell. But whatever he suffered, he patiently bore it all, and in all things kept a confcience void of offence. In the twelfth year of his age, he was feized with the smallpox. The third day his fever was very violent; yet for the mofl part, he was fenfible. And now it was that Satan appeared to be let loose upon him for a fhort feafon. The conflict lafted about twenty-four hours; during which time he cried out in the most lamentable manner, as one in the utmost diftress. Sometimes he appeared as in an agony; at others, as though he was talking and arguing with the Enemy. Some times he called upon God and man for help. Thus he was beset with the powers of darkness, till, partly by the conflict, and partly by his bodily affliction, his ftrength was exhaufted. One day he fixed his eyes very fteadily on one fide of the room, as though he saw something very extraordinary: at last he faid, "Take that wicked man, and bind him hand and foot, and caft him into outer darkness!" Then he cried out, with unspeakable rapture, "I am going to Jefus, to fing his praise for ever! for ever! for ever!" From that time he grew much worse in body; but his mind was quite calm and peaceable. He bore his affliction with great patience indeed nothing feemed to trouble him after his triumphant conqueft. He was prevented from fpeaking fo as to be underflood, except a few times that he was heard to say, "O Jefus my refcue!" But he freqntly lifted up his hands as if he was praying and his e es were lite up to heaven, almost without intermiffion, from Le time of his fore conflict, till he went to God; which he did without a figh or groan. Nov. 1, 1785 W. BOOTHBY. That That MATTER cannot THINK. [Extracted from a late Author.] THE Materialifts pretend, that though perception, reason and volition be not effential to matter; yet they may be the effects of certain portions of matter, figured, divided, moved, and organized in a particular manner. Nothing is more absurd. All that is produced in matter, by figure, divifion, and motion, is only a change of form, bulk, or place. Now intelligence is not a change of form; nor reasoning a change of magnitude; nor volition a change of place. The change of form, bulk, and place, in organized or unorganized bodies, does not alter the nature and effence of things, and therefore can never fuperadd to them a new, quite diffimilar quality, or reality they had not before. We have already demonftrated that intelligence is a perfection, and non-intelligence a defect. Now it is not only unconceivable, but abfolutely impoffible, that what is unintelligent and infenfible, before organization, can become intelligent and felf-confcious by organization; fince organization does not alter the nature and effence of things. A mafs of numberless, fubtile, invifible and unintelligent polygons, fpheres, cylinders, elliptoids, pyramids, or any other infinitely fmall folids, fuch as all fluids must be, cannot therefore become intelligent, felf-confcious, and rational by flowing into the channels or tubes of organized bodies. The Materialists will perhaps fay that metaphyfical reafonings can never destroy physical facts, and conftant experience; that we feel every day how much the difpofitions of the body influence thofe of the mind; that the livelinefs of our thoughts. and perceptions depends upon the quicker or flower motions of the animal fpirits; that perfons half ftrangled, or in a deep fwoon, declare upon their recovery that they had no thought, perception L 2 perception, nor felf-consciousness. From all this they conclude, that upon the extinction of animal life, they will have no fenfation, perception, or intelligence; fince thefe depend entirely upon organized matter. 1ft. I anfwer in the first place, that this fhews the foul and body are united; but not that they are one. We might as well fay that the art, fcience, and intelligence of a musician lies entirely in the ftrings or pipes of his inftruments; because his knowledge is more or less conspicuous, according as they are more or lefs tuned. The comparifon is perfectly juft, and therefore the contrary sophism can only dazzle fuperficial minds, that have no accuracy and acutenefs to diftinguish betwixt union, and unity; that mistake appearances, for realities; 'and take effects for caufes. 2dly. We have already fhewn, that the foul, by a fufpenfion of the divine activity in, and upon it, may fall into a total infenfibility and inaction, and that lapfed intelligences may for a time be void of all thought, fenfation, and reflection: but this fufpenfion of their powers, does not prove the annihilation of their effence. The fuperior faculties of degraded, diseased, fallen fpirits may be fo darkened, fhut up, and obftructed, that they can have no communication, but with material objects; there fore when the corporeal organs are flopt, or deranged, as in á swoon, and after half ftrangling, they can have no fenfations, nor reflections; but this does not argue, that if the union betwixt foul and body had been entirely diffolved, they would not have awakened into another ftate, wherein they would have been miferable, or happy; known God or themfelves, and felt the juft, natural, and neceffary confequences of their virtues, or vices. This life is a kind of dream, fleep, or lethargy, wherein the moft exalted minds are darkened, weakened, and fick, or at leaft, not restored to the true exercife of their intellectual functions. We ought not therefore to judge of the properties, powers, and perfections of the foul in a recovered, re-eftablifhed, and healthful ftate, by the fymptoms that befal it in a state of fickness, depravation, and malady. The 4000 "A The Unfearchableness of GOD's JUDGMENTS. [Continued from page 29,]· S the standing rules of God's acting, fo the occafional grounds thereof are commonly placed beyond the fphere of our apprehenfion. God is obliged to profecute his own decrees; working all things (as the Apoftle faith) according to the counfel of his own will; which how can we anywife come to discover? Can we climb up above the heaven of heavens, and there unlock his clofet, rifle his cabinet, and perufe the records of everlafting defliny, by which the world is governed? No; Who knoweth his mind, or hath been his counfellor? Who (faith the prophet) hath flood in the counfel of the Lord; or hath perceived and heard his word? He doth fearch the hearts, and try the reins of men; he doth weigh their fpirits, and their works; he doth know their frame, he doth understand their thoughts afar off; he perceiveth their clofeft intentions, their deepeft contrivances, their moft retired behaviours; he confequently is acquainted with their true qualifications, capacities and merits; unto which he moft juflly and wifely doth accommodate his dealings with them; which therefore muft often thwart the opinions and expectations of us, who are ignorant of those particulars, and can only view the exterior face or femblance of things: for (as Samuel faid in the cafe of preferring David before his brethren) God feeth not as man feeth; for man looketh on the outward appearance, but God looketh on the heart. God alfo hath a perfect forefight of contingent events; he feeth upon what pin each whicel moveth, and with what weight every scale will be turned; he difcovereth all the connexions; all the entanglements of things, and what the refult will be upon upon the combination, or the clashing of numberless causes; in correfpondence to which perceptions he doth order things confiftently and conveniently; whereas we being flark blind, or very dim fighted in fuch refpects (feeing nothing future, and but few things prefent) cannot apprehend what is fit and feafible; or why that is done, which appeareth done to us. God obferveth in what relations, and what degrees of com-. parifon (as to their natures, their virtues, their confequences) all things ftand each towards others; fo poifing them in the balances of right judgment, as exactly to diftinguifh their juft weight; whereas we cannot tell what things to compare, we know not how to put them into the fcale, we are unapt to make due allowances, we are unable to difcern which fide doth overweigh in the immense variety of objects, our knowledge extends to few things eligible, nor among them can we pick out the best competitors for our choice: hence often must we be at lofs in fcanning the defigns, or tracing the footsteps of Providence. a great 3. We are alfo incapable thoroughly to difcern the ways of Providence from our moral defects, from our ftupidity, from our floth, our temerity, our impatience, our impurity of heart, our perverfeness of will and affections: we have not the perfpicacity to efpy the fubtle tracts, and fecret referves of divine wisdom; we have not the induftry, with steady application of mind, to regard and meditate on God's works; we have not the temper and patience to wait upon God, until he difcover himself in the accomplishment of his purposes; we have not that blessed purity of heart, which is requifite to the feeing God in his fpecial difpenfations; we have not that rectitude of will, and government of our paffions, as not to be fcandalized at what God doeth, if it thwarteth our humour; fuch defects are obfervable even in good men; who therefore have misapprehended, have dificlifhed, have murmured at the proceedings of God; we might inftance in Job, in David, in Elias, in Jonah, in the holy Apoftles themselves; by whofe fpeeches and de portmen |